


quit being a line I'm crossing

by ohmcgee



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, May/December Relationship, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 21:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6536386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Ten minutes later the door opens and Professor Lance walks in, big, black glasses on her face, fishnets and stilettos beneath a pair of denim shorts, and when she walks by, Steph gets a good whiff of cigarettes and tequila. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	quit being a line I'm crossing

**Author's Note:**

> new AU O_O
> 
> Pairings to come:
> 
> Bruce/Jason  
> Roy/Tim  
> Bruce/Dinah  
> Dick/M
> 
> More???

“Are you sure?’ Kara says, looking over Steph’s shoulder as she registers for classes. “The reviews say she’s kind of a hardass.”

“She _wrote_ the book you have to buy for the class, Kara,” Steph says. “She’s been published like a gazillion times. I’ve read the reviews, I know she’s scary, but she’s the best.”

“Damn,” Kara says, grinning. “You’re super serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Well I’m busting my ass to pay for it,” Steph says, laying back to use Kara’s stomach as a pillow. “I better be.”

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Kara says, running her fingers through Steph’s hair. “I can’t believe we’re not going to go the same school.”

“I know,” Steph sighs. She doesn’t want to have this conversation again, the one where she tries to explain to Kara _again_ that she’s not smart enough or rich enough to get into the party school Kara’s parents are paying for her to go to. Instead she rolls over until she’s between Kara’s legs and kisses her stomach, pops open the button on her shorts. “Let me give you something to remember me by?”

“Geeze, Steph,” Kara giggles a little, then the laughter turns into moans as Steph starts mouthing at her through her panties. Steph concentrates on that instead of the ache in her chest, slips away as soon as Kara passes out, leaves a note in lipstick on the mirror. 

_See you soon xo_

She’s always sucked at goodbyes.

 

: : :

 

The campus probably isn’t as big as the one Kara’s at, but it’s still pretty fucking overwhelming. The first day Steph has people thrusting flyers and pamphlets in her face, wanting her to take up some cause or do jello shots or join some shitty sorority. When someone runs into her and she drops her phone on the sidewalk, the glass cracks right in the middle and Steph swears so colorfully a couple of people stop to stare at her. 

“What an asshole,” someone says, then bends down to pick her phone up and hand it to her. “Hope you had insurance.”

Steph snorts. “It’s a pre-paid, so no great loss. Thanks, though.”

“No worries,” the guy says. “Freshman?”

“That obvious?”

“Nah,” he grins. “I mean, except for the paralyzing fear in your eyes and the way you’re clutching that campus map like it’s your lifeline.”

Steph sighs, blows her bangs out of her face. 

“I’m Jason,” the guys says. “Where you trying to get to?”

“Uh,” Steph says. “Wayne Hall?”

“Awesome,” Jason says. “That’s my building. I was just headed there to drop off some stuff. You can come with, unless you’d like to stand here and get run over all day.”

“As tempting as that sounds,” Steph says and slips her busted phone into her back pocket. “Lead the way.” 

 

: : :

 

Wayne Hall is big and bustling with freshmen and older students moving in and catching up and meeting new people. Steph sees someone she went to school with and gives a little wave on the way up the stairs, following Jason as he shows her around. 

“That’s the RA’s room,” he says, pointing at a room that looks just like the rest of the them except it’s painted blue. “Dick’s.”

Steph raises her eyebrows. “You don’t like him, huh?”

Jason looks at her funny for a minute, then laughs. “No, man. His name is Dick. And no, there is no way to make an original dick joke on a college campus, so don’t even try.”

“That’s okay,” Steph says. “Not really a fan of those anyway.”

“Sweet,” Jason says, then winks. “More for me.”

Yeah, Steph thinks she’s gonna like it here.

 

: : :

 

On the first day of classes, Steph gets lost approximately five times. She’s sweating bullets by the time she finally finds her Psych 101 class. She read all the reviews on ratemyprofessor dot com for this teacher. She knows exactly how brutal she can be, but there’s pretty much nothing she can do about it now, so she takes a deep breath and opens the door and --

The professor isn’t even there.

“Uh,” Steph says, grabbing the first empty seat she can find, turning to the girl next to her. “Where’s Professor Lance?”

The girl doesn’t look up from her phone, just shrugs. 

Steph takes out her laptop, covered in band stickers and sharpie, a notebook and a pencil. Finally, ten minutes later the door opens and Professor Lance walks in, big, black glasses still on her face, fishnets and stilettos beneath a pair of denim shorts. When she walks by, Steph gets a good whiff of cigarettes and tequila. 

“I’m Professor Lance, call me Dinah if you want me to put one of these heels through your groin,” she says in a voice that Steph thinks sounds like the lovechild of sandpaper and crushed velvet. “This is Psych 101. I am _not_ your therapist, so don't’ come to me with your fucking problems. Raise your hand if you’ve done the reading.”

Almost everyone around Steph raises their hand, including the stuck up bitch next to her, giving Steph a nasty look when Steph doesn’t raise her hand.

“Congratulations,” the professor says. “You all need lives. It’s _college_ , you guys. Don’t you have something better to do than sit in your musty dorm room reading about what an asshole Freud was?”

Steph laughs behind her hand. 

“See now,” Professor Lance says, pointing -- oh fuck -- straight at Steph. “This girl looks like she knows how to party. You should all take lessons from her. I love your shoes, honey.”

Steph can’t see herself, but she’s pretty sure she turns about three shades of red. 

“Anyway,” Professor Lance says. “I guess they don’t pay me to teach you brats not to be boring, so open your books. I’m going to talk. Don’t interrupt me.”

Then she hops up on the edge of her desk and takes off her sunglasses. Her mascara is clumped up and her eyeliner is smudged and Steph can see a rip in her fishnets when she swings her legs. She looks like Steph the day after Kara’s graduation party, walking home with her heels in her hand, still drunk off Vodka and Jager, puking in the bushes every ten feet.

Steph’s a little bit in love.

 

: : :

 

“So,” Steph says, stealing one of Jason’s fries in the cafeteria. “Have you ever had Professor Lance?”

“Lit student,” Jason says with a mouth full of chili dog. “Seen her around though. Fierce, right?”

“Oh my god,” Steph says. “She’s like -- I mean. Oh my _god._ ”

Jason grins wide, wipes his face. “Crush on a teacher,” he says. “That’s classic.”

“I don’t have a crush on her,” Steph rolls her eyes. She _doesn’t_. Well, maybe she does, but only in that way where she lusts after straight girls she knows she can’t ever have. It’s an unobtainable crush and she really feels that she’s grown as a person that she can distinguish between the two. “She’s just. I think I have a new idol.”

Jason snorts. “After one class? Kind of easy, aren’t you?”

Steph throws a fry at him. “Shut up. If you’d had her, you’d get it. She’s gorgeous and brilliant and --”

“Divorced,” someone says, setting a tray down next to her and taking a seat. 

“Yep,” another person Steph doesn’t know says, sitting next to Jason. “This summer.”

“That’s why she’s always, you know,” the dark haired one says, mimics tipping a flask back.

“Hot as fuck though,” the ginger says. “I’d hit that, but I have more _respect_ for the ladies.”

The dark haired one with nothing but a cinnamon roll on his plate snorts. “She told you to come back when your dick caught up with your ego.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Steph, meet Roy and Tim. Assholes, this is Steph.”

“Uh,” Steph says. “Hey.”

“I’m Tim, that’s Roy.” Tim says. “Are you gonna eat that?”

Then he steals the cookie off her plate without waiting for her to answer and Roy takes her roll.

“You shouldn’t have fed them,” Jason sighs. “Now they’ll never leave.”

“College is weird,” Steph says.

“Yep,” Jason says, watching Roy catch a piece of cookie in his mouth that Tim throws at him “You love it, don’t you?”

Steph just grins. “Maybe a little.”

 

: : :

 

That night she tries to sleep, but she’s too wired from all the excitement from the day, so she grabs her phone, minding the cracked screen, and skypes Kara. They talk back and forth for about half an hour, Kara telling her about the sorority she joined and how tough her classes are and Steph tells Kara about Jason and Tim and Roy and that the evil psych teacher really isn’t that bad. 

“Well you know,” Kara says. “If she gives you shit, you could always come to Metropolis U with me!”

“Sounds good, Kar,” Steph says, too exhausted to deal with that again. “Listen, I gotta go. Talk to you later this week, okay?”

“Okay,” Kara says. “Don’t forget me!”

“Never,” Steph says and makes a kissy face at the screen, ending the call as soon as her roommate walks in. 

“Oh hey,” she says. “Steph, right?”

“Yeah,” Steph says, sitting up in bed. “Are you Cassie?”

“That’s me,” Cassie grins. She’s gorgeous in that party girl way, a sequined halter barely covering her tits, a piercing in her navel, and a pair of jeans so tight Steph’s having trouble not staring. When Cassie starts stripping down to her thong, Steph pulls up something on her phone. 

“What’s your major?” Cassie asks as she unties her halter top. 

“Psychology,” Steph says, tapping away at Candy Crush.

“Yikes,” Cassie says. “With Lance? Heard she’s a beast. Heard she’s a hot mess too, though. So.”

“Kinda,” Steph says to both of those. “But I like her.”

Cassie finally pulls on a t-shirt over her panties and gets into bed. “I got a boyfriend,” she says, yawning and stretching out, pulling a stuffed bear next to her chest. “You don’t mind if he comes over sometimes, right?”

“Of course not,” Steph smiles. “That’s totally fine.”

“And you too,” Cassie says. “You can bring boys over too.”

“Oh,” Steph says. “That’s not really going to be a problem.”

“Are you kidding?” Cassie says. “Girl, you’re hot. You’re going to have to pry the boys off of you with a crowbar here.”

“Maybe,” Steph says. “But they’d be wasting their time.”

“Girls then,” Cassie shrugs, then hops back out of bed. “Forgot to brush my teeth.”

Steph watches her go, then curls up on her side and turns out her light, sets her alarm for eight in the morning, smiles as she replays the day in her head.

As first days go, she’s pretty sure she hit this one out of the park.

 

: : :

 

Unfortunately, Steph doesn’t get to bask in the euphoria of her first day at college much longer than nine am. Her algebra teacher pretty much calls her a dumbass in front of the entire class, then her earth science professor bitches her out for not having the correct book or for downloading the software she told them to dowload in the syllabus Steph never fucking _got._

The rest of the week just keeps going downhill. In no time she’s completely bogged down with homework, already stressing over if she’s done enough reading or if she join the study groups she keeps seeing posted around campus. The only highlight of her days are the couple of hours she works in the library after class with Jason. 

“How’s your day going?” He asks Thursday afternoon.

Steph’s hair is piled on top of her hair is what the youtuber’s are calling a “messy bun” and Steph calls “haven’t had time to wash my hair fuck off.” She blows her bangs out of her face while she pushes her cart and tells Jason about how she ran straight into Professor Hol on her way to lunch.

“Like hitting a brick wall, right?” Jay says, shelving a book, and Steph nods.

“I think I dislocated my shoulder.”

Then she tells him about the lousy F she got back on the paper she wrote for english because Cassie kicked her out when she was trying to write it so her and Conner could have three hours of loud sex. 

“That’s rough,” Jason says, even though he looks like he’s laughing at her a little. “How’s Lance?”

Steph trips over the wheel on the cart and this time Jason does laugh at her. “She’s --” Steph sighs, blows her bangs out of her face again and leans against the bookcase. “You know. Perfect.”

“You gotta let this go, babe,” Jay says. “Trust me on this one.”

“I _know_ ,” Steph says. “I’m not an idiot.”

She totally is though. She’s probably going to end up failing the damn class because all she does is sit there and _stare_ at her the whole time. She didn’t even get the notes today for the quiz they’re going to have on Monday because she was too busy thinking about how awesome it would be to have Professor Lance’s legs wrapped around her.

Anyway,” she says, changing the subject, “How was your date with scary Lit guy?”

“M?” Jason says, grinning. “He’s not scary. He’s actually pretty cuddly once you get to know him. And it definitely wasn’t a _date._ ”

“Tart,” Steph says and Jay just sticks his tongue out at her. 

“Time to go,” he says, then pulls her in for a hug after they return the carts and clock out. “It gets easier, I swear. It just takes a few weeks to smooth out all the kinks. You can do this, okay?”

“Duh,” Steph says and gives him a smile before she heads back to the dorms, only to get there and find one of Cassie’s lacy bras hanging from the door knob.

Steph sighs and slinks down to the floor, pulling her dinosaur of a laptop out of its case. Just a few more weeks, she thinks. She can totally handle that.

 

: : :

 

Steph waits and waits for it to get better, easier, _something_ , but despite Jason’s promise, it never really does. Her Algebra teacher fucking hates her, Bruce treats her like english is her second language, and her lab partner in earth science is some douchebag who never answers her texts or comes to the library when she asks him to or does _anything_ except come to class reeking of weed. 

The semester is halfway over before Steph realizes it. When Professor Lance talks to them about midterms, that’s when it hits her. She’s halfway through the fucking semester and she’s still fumbling around campus like a hot mess, struggling more than she’s ever struggled with anything in her life, and her life has ever been anything remotely easy, so that’s saying something. 

The anxiety attack hits her in the middle of Psych class. Professor Lance is sitting on the edge of her desk like always, poking at a hole in her denim shorts while she goes over what will possibly be on the midterm and Steph knows something’s wrong because she’s not even _thinking_ about her legs. 

She’s thinking about how she doesn’t belong here. Maybe college isn’t for her. Maybe she is just like her dad. Maybe she should just call it, say she gave it her all, and pack her shit back up, get her job at the Dairy Queen back and -- 

Fuck, she can’t breathe. 

She can’t breathe and everyone’s _staring_ at her and Steph’s gripping the edge of her laptop hard enough to bend the cheap plastic. She has to get out of there.

The fresh air helps a little, but then she’s thinking about how Professor Lance is probably going to drop her from the class for walking out like that or worse, she’s just going to think she’s some kind of fuck up and god, she’s going to throw up. She’s going to pass out. She’s --

“Steph?” Someone says her name and Steph feels a hand on her back, rubbing in slow, soft circles. The hand on her back guides her to the bench closest to them and then Professor Lance comes around and squats down in front of her. 

“Hey,” she says, smiling so bright it just makes Steph’s chest hurt even worse. “Can you breathe for me? Just breathe. It’s real easy. Look.”

Then she takes Steph’s hand and puts it right under her breasts, along her diaphram. “Breathe with me, just like this.”

She inhales and Steph feels the rise and fall of her chest, closes her eyes and tries to match her breathing up with Professor Lance’s. 

“That’s good,” she says. “You’re doing good. You’re going to be alright.”

“I know,” Steph breathes out. Her head is already starting to pound, which means she’s going to have a migraine attack in about an hour and be out of commision for at least the whole night. Great. “You -- I’m fine. You can go back in.”

“They can take care of themselves,” Professor Lance says and sits down on the bench next to her. “What’s up, sweetie?”

“Nothing,” Steph says. “It’s...nothing.”

“Sweetheart,” Professor Lance says. “People don’t have panic attacks for nothing. If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. But let me set you up with one of the free counselors on campus. You can --”

“I’m not crazy,” Steph says, then sighs. “Just fucked up.”

“Honey,” Professor Lance says. “Who _isn’t_?”

They sit in comfortable silence for a few seconds before Steph sighs and runs her fingers through her hair, says, “I don’t think I can do this.” 

“Well,” Professor Lance says. “I’m not equipped to make that decision for you. College isn’t for everyone. But I don’t think there’s any way you can know if it is or isn’t just yet. You’ve made it halfway through the semester. I say give it another shot, let yourself have a little _fun_ , and maybe make that decision at the end of the semester.”

“Ugh,” Steph says, giving her a small smile. “All that logic is making me itchy.”

Professor Lance laughs, throwing her head back, and Steph swallows. 

“I’ve been seeing flyers for some kind of jello shot themed party floating around,” Professor Lance says. “That’s your homework.”

Steph blinks. “What?”

“Instead of reading that chapter on Freud’s Five Stages of Actual Horsehshit, I want you to go to this party. Turn your tongue all the colors of the rainbow. Stick it down somebody’s throat. Have _fun_ , Steph. You’ll never make it if you burn yourself out.”

Steph sighs. She really hasn’t let herself have any time for herself since the semester started. There have been flyers and texts and Roy and Tim trying to drag her in 6 different directions every weekend, but Steph always just stayed in and tried to catch up on her reading or work on papers.

“And listen,” Professor Lance says, grabs the pen behind her ear, then grabs Steph’s hand and starts writing on it. “Don’t laugh. My cards are in my purse.”

Steph wasn’t even _thinking_ about laughing. 

“Call me if you have another panic attack. I know I tell you guys I’m not your therapist and I’m not, but I’m not as heartless as I pretend to be. You need help, you call me, okay?”

Steph has no idea what to do with her hands now that Professor Lance isn’t touching them. She doesn’t know what to do with _any_ of this. “Thank you, Professor Lance,” she says. “But --”

“But nothing,” the professor says. “And it’s Dinah. Okay?”

Steph worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “Yeah. Okay. I will.”

“Good,” Dinah says. “I’ll see you on Monday then.”

Steph just sits there and watches her walk back to her classroom, feeling a llittle lightheaded from more than just the panic attack. 

“Man,” she says, then takes her phone out, minding the cracked screen, and shoots Jason a text. 

_I have GOT to get laid._

 

: : : 

 

Cassie gets excited when Steph tells her she’ll go to the party she and Conner are going to later that night, tries to help her pick out what she’s going to wear, but in the end Steph just decides to go with what she knows, cut-off shorts and a pair of tiger stripe leggings and a black tanktop with her jacket over it. 

She walks over with Cassie and Conner, gets greeted by a frat boy wearing nothing but a little towel around his waist who offers them a jello shot at the door and Steph picks out a blue one and a red one and pops them both in her mouth, wondering if it made her tongue purple as she follows Cassie through the house.

Steph loses Cassie and Conner in the crowd for a little while, but it’s fine. She grabs a beer from one of the ice chests and mingles, talks to a guy from her algebra class and his girlfriend about last season of Game of Thrones, is offered more and more jello shots until she feels good enough to let Cassie drag her out into the middle of the room where everyone’s dancing. 

Cassie puts herself between Steph and Conner and grinds between both of them. Conner smiles and shrugs at Steph over the top of Cassie’s head and Steph smiles back, starts moving with Cassie when a new song comes on. The music’s shitty, but it’s good to dance to and there’s not much else Steph loves more than dancing. She remembers sneaking out late and going to the only club in town with Kara, dancing until they were covered in sweat and glitter, remembers that time another girl came and danced with them and the three of them ended up in the backseat of Kara’s SUV, Kara sitting on Steph’s face while the girl they danced with ate her out. She knows nothing like that’s going to happen with Cassie, and definitely not with Conner, so when Cassie slides her hand right up under the front of Steph’s shirt and kisses her, it kind of takes her by surprise.

Steph kisses her back anyway because she’s drunk and Cassie tastes like salt and limes from the body shots she was doing earlier, and because she _wants_ to, even if there is that little voice in the back of her mind screaming _decision_ when she gets her hands on Cassie’s hips and sticks her tongue in her mouth. Conner backs off to watch them, so Steph slides her hands over Cassie’s perfectly round ass, sucks on Cassie’s tongue and lets Cassie grind on her thigh until Cassie pulls off and giggles. 

“Tooooo many jello shots,” she says, grinning as she untangles herself from Steph and, predictably, goes back to dancing with Conner. 

Steph’s mouth still tastes like tequila and Cassie’s lipgloss when Cassie and Conner start dancing again, so she goes to the kitchen and grabs another beer to wash it all down. There’s too many fucking people everywhere so she slips out the backdoor and sits down on the steps, looks at the faded numbers on her hand and before she can think better of it, she’s punching the numbers in on her phone and holding it up to her ear.

The phone rings five and a half times before someone answers.

“Hello?” Dinah answers and wherever she is, it sounds loud there too. 

“It’s me,” Steph says, then giggles when she realizes Dinah might not recognize her voice. “The crazy girl you gave your number to?”

“Steph,” Dinah says and Steph thinks she can hear her grinning, can see it, all bright and white and perfect in her head. “You sound like you’re having fun. Good girl.”

Steph feels a flush spread out across her face at that and leans back until she’s lying on the porch, looking up at the stars. 

“I kissed a girl and I liked it,” she says and Dinah laughs. 

“Was she wearing cherry chapstick?”

“Nah,” Steph says. “Tasted like her dumb boyfriend.”

“Ah,” Dinah says and Steph ignores the pity she hears, closes one eye and tries to make out Sagittarius. 

“Am I bothering you?”

“Not really,” Dinah says. “But you were only supposed to use that number if you needed something.”

“I do need something,” Steph says, scratching her stomach. “I need to get laid _so bad._ ”

Dinah doesn’t say anything for so long Steph wonders if she accidentally hit the end call button with her chin or something. 

“You’re not the only one,” she finally says and Steph thinks her laugh sounds smokey when she hears it, but that probably doesn’t make any sense. “Everyone in this bar is either with someone or an asshole.”

“I’m not,” Steph says, then remembers to finish her sentence a minute or so later. “Either one of those things.”

“Steph…”

“Can you just,” Steph says, sliding her hand down the front of her shorts. “What are you wearing right now?”

Dinah laughs, soft and no, definitely smoky, in her ear. “Sweetie. I think you need to mix in a water.”

“No just,” Steph says, pushing her fingers inside of her to get them wet, them bringing them back up to rub at her clit. “I just...wanna know. You’re my style icon.”

“Fine,” Dinah says, huffing out a laugh. “I’m wearing a black mini skirt, my tall boots and this sort of black, tube top kinda thing? It has buckles on it.”

“Mmm,” Steph says. “Kara has one like that.”

“Who’s Kara?” Dinah asks, but Steph’s hardly listening to her anymore, just rubbing circles on her clit with two fingers, biting her lip so she doesn’t let out any noise. “Steph? You there?”

“Yeah,” Steph says breathily, then slides her fingers in her pussy.“I’m --”

Steph drops her phone and shoves her fists in her mouth as she comes, shuddering through each wave of orgasm. 

When she picks the phone back up, the screen is blank. Either the call dropped when she dropped it or Dinah hang up on her. 

“Fuck,” Steph sighs and wipes her fingers on her shorts, then she gets up and finds Cassie and tells her she’s heading home. 

She needs to go back to her room, climb in bed, and never, ever come out. 

 

: : :

 

The next morning Jason wakes her up with a series of texts demanding she get her ass out of bed and have waffles with him and Steph knows him well enough by now to know that if she just ignores him he’ll start banging on her door and then Cassie will get up and answer the door in her damn _panties_ and it’s too fucking early for Steph to deal with that.

She shows up at the diner about half an hour later, mascara and eyeliner still smudged under her eyes, looking exactly like the pile of garbage she feels like. 

“Fun night?” Jason grins when he sees her. She’s pretty sure Jason’s never had a hangover in his life and she thinks about stabbing him right in his stupid pretty eyes with her butter knife just for managing to look like an actual human person before twelve o’clock.

“Your face is too loud,” Steph groans and pulls her sunglasses back down over her face.

Jason just laughs at her and pours syrup over a plate of waffles, sliding them over to her. “You went to that party last night, right? You hook up?”

Steph stuffs a forkful of waffles in her mouth so she doesn’t have to answer him, but Jason just puts his hands on his chin and waits her out. 

“No,” she says. “Not...no. Definitely no.”

“That no sounds interesting,” Jason says. “Tell me more.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Steph says and licks the syrup off her fork because sugar is magical and awesome and everything she needs in the world right now.

“Tell me,” Jason says, pointing his knife at her. “Tell me or I get Roy and Tim here.”

“Oh god,” Steph whispers, remembering the last time they all went out for hangover breakfast, how Roy and Tim sang fucking Bohemian Rhapsody in _german_ at the top of their lungs while Steph prayed for death. “I kind of...did a...thing.”

“Ooh,” Jason looks like he wants to rub his hands together and cackle like an evil super villain. Possibly Steph’s still a little drunk. “A bad thing?”

“An embarrassing thing,” Steph groans. “An I Can Never Show My Face In Her Class Ever Again Thing.”

“That sounds like I need to know more about it,” Jason says, pushing his plate to the side and motioning for her to continue. 

“It's really not that interesting, Steph says. “I just got wasted and called Dinah.”

“Hold on,” Jason says, blinking. “Hold on. You’re on a first name basis now? You’ve got her _number_?”

Steph orders another coffee and another plate of waffles and explains the whole, wonderful panic attack thing to Jason, how Dinah wrote her number on her hand and told her to call her if she needed anything, which probably wasn’t for some idiot freshman with a crush on her to interrupt her Saturday night. 

“So you know,” she says, waving her fork around. “I’m pathetic.”

“Nah,” Jay says, then gives her a softer look. “But you are kind of torturing yourself.”

“Yeah,” Steph says, sighing. “But Jason, her _legs._ ”

Jay just laughs and this time Steph laughs with him, feeling more like herself than she has in days. 

 

: : :

 

Sitting through Dinah’s class on Monday is a very special kind of hell. Not only does Steph still remember _coming_ to the sound of that hot, smoky voice, but Dinah’s wearing a dress that might as well be a fucking t-shirt for how long it is and a pair of boots that come up to her thighs. 

She takes notes as best as she can and figures she’s just imagining it when every time she looks up Dinah is looking in her direction. 

After class, Steph paces back and forth outside of Dinah’s office and Dinah scares the shit out of her when she opens the door and says, “What are you doing,” a twizzler hanging out of her mouth.

“Oh,” Steph says. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” Dinah says, then. “Hey, close the door?”

Steph closes the door and puts her backpack down, sits down in one of the chairs as Dinah props open the window in her office and lights up a cigarette, propping one leg up in the window sill and Steph --

Forgets why she’s here. 

“So,” Dinah says, taking a drag. “What’s up?”

“Oh,” Steph says again, her mouth going dry when she sees the little tattoo on Dinah’s ankle. _Focus, Steph._ “I just. I wanted to apologize.”

“For?” Dinah asks, flicking the ashes out the window.

_For getting off to the sound of your voice._

“For drunk dialing you like some wasted college freshman.”

“But you _were_ a wasted college freshman,” Dinah grins and blows smoke out of the corner of her mouth. “I mean, I hope. Iisn’t that what I told you to do?”

“Yeah,” Steph says. “The drunk part anyway. But you gave me your number for emergencies and I --”

“Totally saved me from some drooling neckbeard,” Dinah says. “Don’t you love it when they tell you to _smile_ more?”

“Ugh,” Steph says. “Well in that case, you’re totally welcome.”

Dinah grins at her then hops down from the window sill, flicking the butt of her cigarette outside, then pulling the windows shut.

“So,” Dinah says, sitting on top of her desk, hooking her ankles together; the tattoo on her ankle is a tiny mermaid tail. “You got the first part right. What about the other part of the assignment?”

“Sort of,” she blushes and tries to hide behind her hair. “I mean, I made at least four bad decisions in three hours and made out with my hotass roommate for about five seconds until she remembered her brick shithouse of a boyfriend.”

“Ouch,” Dinah says and Steph just shrugs.

“I was drunk. I know better than to stick my tongue in a straight girl usually.”

Dinah chokes on her diet coke and Steph’s eyes get huge.

“ _Mouth,_ ” She corrects herself quickly, blushing furiously. “in a straight girl’s mouth. Oh god.”

Dinah just laughs. “Calm down, sweetie. You’re not going to embarrass me. I’ve got a few years on you, you know.” Then she winks and Steph dies a little.

“Anyway,” Dinah says. “I’ve got a hot date with my tub and a bottle of wine. Walk me to my car?”

Steph’s brain goes offline for a moment at _that_ imagery, just nods, pulls her backpack on and follows Dinah out.

Dinah’s car is an old, bright yellow VW bug and it’s kind of perfect. There’s dice hanging from the rearview mirror and a hula dancer on the dash. When Steph tells her she’s on her way to the library Dinah says, “Way across campus? In those heels?” And offers to give Steph a ride, which Steph jumps _right_ on because she hates herself or something.

Dinah’s car is too small and it smells like cigarettes and Dinah’s perfume, like books and the remnants of fast food bags left in the backseat for too long, and the clutch grinds in second gear. 

“Here we go,” Dinah says when she pulls into the parking lot in front of the library. It’s dark out now and there’s no one else in the parking lot and Steph forgets that she’s supposed to be getting out of the car, just kind of looks at Dinah and wants to say something. 

Just...something.

“Oh, that door sticks,” Dinah says and then she’s reaching over to jiggle the door handle for Steph and her tits brush against Steph’s arm and Steph smells the coconut in her hair and her filter goes completely offline.

“God, you smell good,” she blurts out then and Dinah just looks up at her and Steph mutters “bad decision number five,” and kisses her.

Dinah’s mouth is soft against hers and Steph tangles her fingers up in her hair and Dinah opens her mouth against Steph’s, puts her fingers on the side of Steph’s face and sighs against Steph’s mouth as Steph licks into her mouth and it’s pretty much the most perfect moment of her life until Dinah pulls away and shuts her eyes.

“You need to study,” Dinah says. “And I need to go.”

It starts to rain as soon as Dinah pulls off and Steph just stands there under the awning, touching the corner of her mouth and wondering why she hates herself so much. 

 

: : :

 

After that glorious bit of stupidity, Steph tries to remember why she’s actually at college. She busies herself with studying, catching up with reading, and starts on a paper she has due in a week. 

Dinah doesn’t treat her any differently in class, thank god, and pretty much acts like _whatever_ happened in her car that afternoon -- didn’t. Which, really, is totally fine with Steph. It was a fucking stupid thing to do and she knew exactly what was going to happen. She knew, but she had to do it anyway, and she’d probably do it again because that’s just how she rolls.

But still, there are these times when Dinah’s perched on the edge of her desk, talking passionately about the Id and the ego, and she’ll look straight at Steph and Steph will have to squeeze her thighs together it’s so -- something. Not to mention the way she rolls her ballpoint pen back and forth over her bottom lip while she looks at someone’s work, or --

No, Steph’s definitely not doing this anymore. 

“I need to dance,” she announces when she walks into Dick’s room down the hall where Tim, Roy, and Jason are all congregated around his playstation. “I need to dance _now._ ”

So when everybody’s done with classes on Friday, Steph borrows some of Cassie’s sluttiest clothes and they go out to this club that M told Jason about. It’s good, but not everybody knows about it, so it’s not too crowded or overrun by assholes. 

Steph throws back shot after shot and loses herself in bodies in the crowd for a while, dances between Roy and Tim, jumps around with a few girls, then goes back to the bar for a water. 

The guy who had been working the bar when they got there has just headed out at the end of his shift and the new one is --

“ _Dinah_?”

Dinah turns away from a crowd of teenagers pissed off at her because she’d seen right through their fake id’s and gives Steph a smile.

“Well,” she says. “I was bound to run into one of you heathens some time, I guess.”

“You’re a...bartender,” Steph says. She’s had too many pretty drinks for this. Or not enough. “But you’re a...professor.”

“Both, amazingly,” Dinah says, pouring the guys next to Steph refills. “My ex-husband pretty much gets everything I make in alimony, so I have the luxury of working my ass off every day of the week so he can take his child bride to Fiji for their honeymoon.”

“Bitter?” Steph says and Dinah just throws her head back and laughs; Steph licks her lips.

“Hell yeah,” she says. “But only about the money. Ollie can go to hell.”

“How,” Steph says, watching liquor run down Dinah’s fingers when she pours another shot. “How long were you guys married?”

“Forever,” Dinah says. “I met him in college.” Then she leans across the bar towards Steph and Steph’s far too drunk not to let her eyes fall straight to Dinah’s tits, all squeezed together on top of the bar. “You know, I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to be drinking those cute little rainbow shots you’ve been knocking back all night.”

“Shh,” Steph says, putting her finger to Dinah’s lips. “Don’t tell anybody.”

Dinah still serves her, though, and Steph goes back on the dance floor after that, finds a girl with blue and pink streaks in her hair to dance with that knows just what to do with her hands. She tastes like cotton candy when Steph kisses her and Steph thinks about asking if she can taste her somewhere else when the girl giggles and says, _I’m so drunk_ , and Steph just rolls her eyes and walks off, grabs her jacket and steps outside for a smoke. 

Halfway into her second cigarette the door opens behind her and Steph turns around to see Dinah walk out, tapping the pack against her hand. She doesn’t say anything, just cups her hands and lights it up, taking a drag and blows the smoke out in a cloud of whitish-grey and gives this short, hollow laugh.

“I guess this is supposed to be embarrassing,” she says. “But honestly I just don’t give a fuck anymore.”

“It’s not embarrassing,” Steph says, remembering tequila spilling over Dinah’s fingers, Dinah’s tits squeezed into the corset top she’s got on. “It’s hot.”

“Oh yeah,” Dinah says. “Being the living embodiment of a trainwreck is super appealing. Everybody wants that.”

“I want that,” Steph says, suddenly remembering what tequila does to her brain-to-mouth filter. “I mean.”

“Oh honey,” Dinah says, blowing smoke to the side. “You really don’t.”

“Really,” Steph says, licking her lips and standing in front of Dinah, taking the cigarette out of her mouth and taking a drag, exhaling before flicking it to the side. “I do.”

Dinah grabs her hair first, tangles her fingers in it and drags Steph forward, crashing their mouths together. Steph whimpers against Dinah’s mouth and grabs her face, her hair, drags her thumbs over Dinah’s cheekbones when Dinah opens her mouth against hers and fucks her tongue into Steph’s mouth. 

Dinah’s hands slip to Steph’s hips and Steph breathes out a shuddery breath. 

“I do,” she says, kissing Dinah’s neck, then throat, peppering kisses down the swell of her breasts, then drops down in front of her. “I really fucking do..”

Dinah just stands there and watches as Steph slides her palms up Dinah’s thighs, pushing her skirt up.

“Steph,” Dinah says and Steph says, “Please,” and pulls Dinah’s panties down, kisses Dinah’s thigh and breathes her _in._

Dinah _shakes_ at the first touch of Steph’s tongue on her, gets her hand in Steph’s hair and looks down at her, _watches_ her. “ _Steph_ ,” she says and it’s different this time, a plea instead of a warning, and Steph just grabs Dinah’s hips and buries her face between her thighs, lifts one of Dinah’s legs over her shoulder and pushes her tongue inside of her. 

“Jesus,” Dinah gasps, palming the back of Steph’s head as Steph eats her out, lapping at Dinah’s juices, tonguing her clit until Dinah says, “Oh _god_ ,” and digs the heel of her boot into Steph’s shoulder and drenches Steph’s face with wetness, shaking and shuddering against the brick. “Goddamn.”

Steph grins as she stands back up, a little wobbly, dragging her hand over her mouth, and Dinah just pulls her against her, crushes Steph’s mouth against hers and groans. “Oh _god_ , you taste like me,” she says and pops open the button Steph’s jeans, slips her hand down the front and all it takes is a few hard rubs of Dinah’s thumb over her clit before Steph is pressing her face into the side of Dinah’s neck and trying so _hard_ not to scream, holding onto Dinah like an anchor as she shakes from it. 

When she pulls back, Dinah strokes the side of her face with her fingers. “You’re so drunk,” she says and it’s not like the other thing, not really, but it’s so much like it that Steph flips out a little. 

“So?” She snaps. “What does that even _matter?_ Do you like armadillos? No? Are you going to try to fuck an armadillo because you had a rum and coke? Everybody _uses_ that as a fucking excuse and it's fucking _bullshit_ and I’m so fucking tired of --”

“Steph,” Dinah says, grabbing her face with both hands. “Let me take you home.”

“I can’t go home!” Steph yells. She’s pretty sure that’s the Jager. “Cassie’s fucking her BOYFRIEND.”

“Fine,” Dinah says. “Then come home with me. You’re wasted and you need to sleep it off.”

“I -- “ Steph says, yanking away from Dinah’s hands. “What?”

“Come back to my place,” Dinah says, pushing Steph’s hair behind her ear. “If you’re okay with that.”

“I’m,” Steph says, looks up into Dinah’s eyes and feels her stomach do a somersault. “I’m...gonna puke.”

“Right,” Dinah says and steps out the way right before Steph throws up. 

 

: : :

 

Steph wakes up next the morning feeling less like warmed over death than she usually does thanks to all the water Dinah made her drink before she passed out, probably. She’s wearing one of Dinah’s shirts because she had beer and probably puke on hers and Dinah’s lying next to her, makeup smudged around her eyes, mascara clumped in her eyelashes, hair _everywhere_ , and she’s the prettiest thing Steph’s ever seen. 

Dinah’s facing her, laying on her side, and when Steph drags her fingertips down her sides she smiles a little, blinks open her eyes and says, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Steph says, smiling back, but she doesn’t stop touching her -- can’t if she wanted to. Dinah’s warm all over and her skin is the softest, smoothest thing. She just lies there, running her fingers up and down Dinah’s arms, along her hip and up her ribs, just looks and looks because she _can_ , because Dinah’s letting her, and there’s just so much to take in. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” Dinah says, shivering a little when Steph drags her fingers down Dinah’s stomach.

“How am I looking at you?” Steph asks, fingers skimming the butterfly inked low on Dinah’s hip, and hears Dinah’s breath catch.

“Like you always do,” Dinah says and reaches down, grabs Steph’s wrist and guides her hand down into her panties, closes her eyes when Steph slips a finger between her folds. “Like I’m some kind of role model.”

Dinah cups the back of Steph’s neck and kisses her when Steph slides a finger inside of her, starts breathing heavy and ragged when Steph starts pumping it in and out of her and gets her hand under the shirt Steph’s wearing and Steph only takes her finger out of her long enough to let Dinah pull it off over her head so she can get her mouth on her tits. 

“God,” Steph breathes out when Dinah’s tongue flicks over her nipple and she cups and squeezes the other one with her hand. “Get these off.”

She tugs at Dinah’s panties and Dinah shifts just enough so that Steph can slide them down and she can shimmy out of them, moves between Steph’s legs and kisses her way down between her tits, down her belly, then hooks her fingers into Stephs panties and Steph lifts her hips, letting Dinah slide them off of her.

When Dinah spreads Steph’s thighs and kneels between her legs, Steph thinks she’s found some kind of new religion, would gladly worship just this image of Dinah, naked and between her thighs for the rest of her life. 

When Dinah spreads her open, licks up the center of her and starts sucking on her clit, Steph loses track of all the stupid noises she makes, loses the ability to _care_ , just buries her hands in Dinah’s hair and says _yes_ and _fuck_ and _please_ , turns Dinah's name into something filthy when Dinah pushes two fingers into her and pulls one of Dinah's pillows over her face when she comes, biting and screaming into it so everyone in Dinah's building won't hear her. 

Dinah wipes her mouth when she sits back and Steph sits up so she can kiss her, tangles her fingers in Dinah’s hair and tastes herself on her tongue, all _over_ her, gets her hands on Dinah’s perfect, perfect ass and pulls Dinah down on her thigh, kisses Dinah’s throat when Dinah tilts her head back and grinds down on her. 

“God, Steph,” she pants as she rocks against her, her pussy hot and wet against Steph’s thigh, and just grabs Steph’s face and kisses her messy and open mouthed as Steph squeezes her ass and Dinah rides her thigh until she throws her head back and _screams_ , drenching Steph’s thigh in her juices when she comes, then rolls off of Steph and lies on her back.

“I need a cigarette,” she says and Steph props up on one elbow to watch her as she gets up, walks across the room and grabs her cigarettes and lighter, then comes back to bed. After she lights it up and tosses her lighter across the room at her dresser, she takes the first drag, then hands it to Steph. 

“So,” Steph says, puts Dinah’s cigarette between her mouth. It’s not the kind she’s used to and it kind of burns, but in the good way. “When do you plan on freaking out?”

Dinah laughs at her and takes the cigarette back, curses when an ash fall on the sheets and burns a hole through it. “About?”

Steph’s lying at the opposite end of the bed on her side, close enough to Dinah’s legs that she can reach out and touch the tattoo on Dinah’s ankle and Dinah jerks her foot away, apparently ticklish. “You know,” Steph says. “About the extreme lack of dick in your bed right now.”

“Of all the things for me to freak out about,” Dinah laughs. “That’s what you think is at the top of my list?”

“You were married for like a zillion years,” Steph says. “To some dude. With a beard.”

“A goatee,” Dinah says, tapping her cigarette into the ashtray next to her bed. “Which I hated. What’s your point?”

“I’m not trying to sound full of myself or anything,” Steph says. “But I mean. Had you ever even been with a girl before me?”

“Ah,” Dinah says, putting the butt out. “You’re afraid I’m going to have some kind of vagina panic. Sorry to disappoint you there, sweetie.”

“Okay,” Steph says. “You didn’t answer my question though.”

“Not really,” Dinah shrugs. “Made out a couple of times with a couple of different girls in college when we could blame it on drugs or booze, but it never went farther than that.”

“So how do you --”

“Because I do,” Dinah says. “Listen, I get that people have been shitty to you, but I’m not some confused eighteen year old freshman still having mommy do her laundry on the weekends, Steph.”

“I didn’t --”

“I’m almost twice your age. I’m your _teacher_ ,” Dinah says, cutting her off. “So if you want to worry that I’m going to start freaking out over something, maybe worry about that.”

She gets up and grabs a pair of shorts off the floor, pulls a tank top out of a drawer, and Steph pulls on the shirt Dinah gave her last night, finds her jeans in a corner and pulls them on.

“I’ll leave you alone,” Steph says when she turns around and sees Dinah sitting on the edge of her bed, running her fingers through her hair and staring off into space. “If you want.”

“What I want,” Dinah muses, wraps her hands around Steph’s hips when Steph walks up to her. “Is hardly ever a good thing.”

“Do you want _me_ ,” Steph says and Dinah just looks up at her, big blue eyes shining, and says, “It doesn’t matter. You don’t want me.”

Steph looks at her like she’s _crazy_ and Dinah just pulls her down in her lap, tucks Steph’s hair behind her ear. “You’re so young,” Dinah says. “You don’t want to deal with all my shit, Steph. Trust. Me. _I_ don’t want to deal with it. You need to be out there making your own mistakes.”

“Pretty sure I can make my own mistakes _and_ fuck you silly,” Steph says. “I’m multi-talented like that.”

Dinah laughs, then presses her forehead against Steph’s and sighs. “I’m a hot mess.”

“I’m a trainwreck,” Steph says, wrapping her arms around Dinah’s neck.

“This isn’t going to be pretty,” Dinah says and Steph grins.

“Nothing worth it ever is.”


End file.
